


keep me in your glow

by goingmywaydoll



Series: honey, let's get married [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, One Shot, Wedding Planning, just gratuitous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18426291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingmywaydoll/pseuds/goingmywaydoll
Summary: David and Patrick take a trip to Bed, Bath & Beyond.





	keep me in your glow

**Author's Note:**

> i have no justification for how sickeningly sweet this is. title from golden hour by kacey musgraves

David has his hand buried deep in the softest towel he’s ever touched. It probably isn’t, in reality, the softest towel he’s ever touched—that title goes to the towels at the Four Seasons in Paris—but it’s almost as soft and he wants to unfold it and wrap it around his shoulders and never move. He almost feels like he’s in Paris, blissfully calm and comfortable.

“David?”

He opens his eyes at the sound of Patrick’s voice and flinches at the fluorescent lights. Patrick is looking at him expectantly, standing in the towel aisle at Bed, Bath & Beyond. David can tell he’s getting impatient, even if Patrick is trying his best not to show it. He can’t blame him. They’ve been in the store nearly an hour and they still haven’t checked off half the things on their registry.

“I asked you if you wanted light grey or white,” Patrick says, holding up two different bath towels. David shakes his head, the memory of a Four Seasons bathroom fading as he focuses on Patrick. He frowns, looking between the two, and tries to ignore the way that Patrick is tapping his foot.

“White,” he says finally. “They’ll match the ones Stevie got us.” 

Patrick hands the white towel over to David can scan it. “I’m sorry,” David says after Patrick puts the towels back. Patrick turns, looking somewhat inquisitive, which David knows he’s faking for his benefit. “I know I’m being…”

“Difficult?” fills in Patrick after a pause.

“Okay, you didn’t need to say that so quickly?” David says, pursing his lips.

“Sorry,” Patrick says and he looks down, bashful. David feels his heart clench. He’s even better at being sorry.

“I know I’m not being easy,” David tries again.

“Since when have you ever been easy?” David’s heart clenches again. Years ago, that sentence would be enough to send him into a tailspin but the way the words fall from Patrick’s mouth, soft and teasing all at once, makes his heart stutter in his chest. It doesn’t make him panic but it doesn’t fill him with the sense of warmth he expected. Patrick puts the basket in his hands down, tugging on David’s hand to pull him closer so he can rest his hands on his hips. “I didn’t expect this to be a walk in the park. I knew what I was getting into.”

“I don’t like not being easy.” David has to force the words from his mouth. He’s said something akin to them before and Patrick doesn’t look remotely surprised at his words.

“No one is easy,” says Patrick.

“You are.” David’s voice is hushed, so quiet he wonders if Patrick doesn’t hear him.

But Patrick is raising an eyebrow at him like he can’t believe David actually thinks these things. It helps, when Patrick looks at him like this, incredulous that these thoughts would ever even cross David’s mind. It reminds him that they’re not rational, that they’re not rooted in reality. Like so many of Patrick’s looks and touches, they ground him.

“I’m sorry, who was it who made you play baseball not two months ago?” Patrick says and that manages to bring a smile to David’s lips. “I’m not going to walk you through the greatest hits of my fuck-ups, David. No one is easy. I like that you’re not easy. I like that you make me try. I like that loving you takes effort. It reminds me how worth it is. I’m not going to lie and tell you that it’s effortless. Relationships aren’t effortless. Most of the time, it  _is_ easy. Maybe not when we’re deciding between thread counts and mixing bowls. But I like working for you.”

David tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “Okay. That was really sweet and all? But I’m mad at you for making me cry in Bed, Bath & Beyond.”

Patrick chuckles and it comes out a little warbled, like he’s trying not to cry too.

“For the record?” David says, swiping his thumb under his eyes. It comes away wet. “I like working for you too.”

The grin Patrick gives him is enough to make David’s eyes well up again.

“Although, I really wish you chose a better sentence structure because now it just sounds like you’re my boss,” David says and he presses his mouth to Patrick’s, stifling his laugh.

Patrick’s hands are tight on his hips and David can hear his own deafening heartbeat in his ears. He marvels at how he still feels this way, untethered and stable all at once. And as Patrick buries his hand in his hair—which David is going to get back at him for later—David thinks that this is never going to change. He’s about to spend the rest of his life with Patrick and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to stop feeling agonizingly wrapped up in him, like if he lets go he’ll just drift away.

There’s a soft cough coming from the left of them and suddenly Patrick’s lips are pulling away and David has to open his eyes.

There’s a middle-aged woman looking at them, sweet and awkward, trying to get her shopping cart down the aisle past them.

“Sorry,” Patrick says, pressing himself against the shelf next to David so the woman can get by. She doesn’t meet either of their eyes. “So we’re done with towels?” he says weakly and David nods, sucking his lips between his teeth. Patrick’s ears are bright red and it makes David want to crawl into him and hug him from the inside.

“What’s next?” David asks, glancing at the list he has on his phone. “Kitchen appliances?”

“Oh no,” Patrick says and the sidelong look he sends David is enough to send a thrill down his back. “It’s much easier to make out in the bedding section.”

Patrick, it turns out, was kidding when he said he would make out with David in the bedding section because when they get there, he spends most of his time pulling David away from needless throw pillows.

“Pillows have a  _purpose_ , Patrick,” David says and Patrick looks at him like David is doing that thing where he’s conveniently forgetting that Patrick has a functional brain.

“Is their  _purpose_ to make our friends and family spend too much on gifts for us?”

“ _Yes_ ,” David replies easily. “And that’s just one of many.”

Patrick turns so he can grasp David’s shoulders, looking him in the eye and David wonders if he’s going to say something that makes David want to melt into the floor again.

“David. We’re not making our friends and family spend hundreds of dollars on each gift.”

David scowls at him, wriggling so Patrick takes his hands off his shoulders. “I was not only promised nice gifts but also making out in the bedding section on this trip.”

“I made no such promise,” Patrick says as he examines pillowcases.

“It was implied.”

“Was it?”

David rests his chin on Patrick’s shoulder, reading the label on the linens Patrick is looking at. “Why are we registering for linens anyway?”

“You don’t like dark grey sheets,” says Patrick simply. David steps back, frowning at the back of Patrick’s head. When David doesn’t say anything else, Patrick glances over his shoulder at him. “What?”

“I don’t get it.”

“You don’t like dark grey sheets. The ones I have now are dark grey,” says Patrick, like it’s nothing that he’s registering them for new sheets just because David doesn’t like dark grey ones.

“I don’t  _hate_  them,” he mutters.

Patrick’s eyes soften. “But you don’t like them. I want you to like our sheets.”

Patrick has been doing this thing since he proposed and sometimes, David finds himself falling into it too. He doesn’t always notice it. Sometimes it feels so natural it slips right by. But Patrick has been using words like “our” and “we” more and more and even if David had known those words were up for grabs before they were engaged, the fact that Patrick has so smoothly integrated them into his vocabulary and David has too makes his chest tight and warm and his heart hitch.

“Besides,” Patrick says, throwing the sheets into the basket. “I’m not putting them on the registry, I’m buying them for us.”

David bites the inside of his cheek, watching Patrick as he ticks off a few things on the list on his phone. When he looks up, catching sight of David’s expression, the focused expression on his face vanishes, replaced by something in between curiosity and affection.

“What?” he asks, a tiny wrinkle forming between his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” David says, shaking his head and smiling at him. “Let’s find things for the kitchen.”

He can feel Patrick’s gaze linger on him as David takes the basket and walks away, knowing Patrick will follow.

The kitchen section, David discovers, is the most dangerous in the store.

Patrick is examining blenders and there’s only so much reading David can do about variable speed controls and how powerful the motor is. Patrick is sending him pointed looks, like if David doesn’t stop tapping his fingers against the back of Patrick’s hand, he’s going to leave without finishing their registry. So David wanders, looping through the aisles of the kitchen section, trying to find something he might conceivably use in their apartment. He finds a toaster with four different slots, which gets him excited before he remembers Patrick already has a toaster and they both decided not to register for anything they already had.

He’s nearly back to where Patrick is, having skipped over almost half of the appliances. His eyes land on stainless steel juicer just next to the blender Patrick has decided on. Patrick follows his gaze.

“David, we don’t need a juicer,” he says quickly.

“ _You_  don’t.  _I_ do. I love juice,” says David, fiddling with the price tag that’s hanging off the handle. Patrick makes a play for the scanner in David’s hand, but he isn’t fast enough because David raises it over his head, just out of Patrick’s reach.

“David.”

“Yes?” So maybe the way David blinks innocently is overkill, but he  _really_  wants that juicer. He’s already planning the juices he’s going to make on Saturday mornings, or every morning because it’ll be right there in their kitchen. “What’s the point of registering if you don’t even get to register for what you want?”

“I will hand-squeeze your juices if it means we don’t have to ask our friends to buy a…” Patrick pauses, squinting at the price tag. “A six hundred dollar juicer.”

David knows Patrick is right. He knows it isn’t fair to expect anyone to buy it for them. But he wants it on there. Just in case.

“It’s cute you think you could juice an apple,” David says. He looks at the label. “This juicer can juice an apple. Can you do that?”

Patrick is sending him a dirty look and it’s so adorable David almost caves. Almost.

“Please?”

Patrick sighs, looking away before frowning at the juicer. He takes a step closer to David, his resolve clearly melting away. David is almost ready to crow when, instead of saying something like “Yes, of course, we can register for the juicer, David, whatever makes you happy” Patrick crowds into David’s space, setting the basket down so he can pull David flush against him.

“What’s hap—“ The end of David’s sentence is muffled against Patrick’s lips because he has David pinned to the shelves, cupping his face and kissing him soundly. David sinks against him, not caring that one of the shelves is digging into his back and that they could probably be kicked out for the way Patrick is kissing him, messy and distracting. David hooks an arm around his waist, pulling him closer and letting his head fall back as Patrick nips at his lower lip. He pulls away just enough that David lets out a tiny whine and chases his lips with his. 

He expects Patrick to comply, but he doesn’t and pulls away. David blinks his eyes open and suddenly, he’s not holding the scanner.

He watches as Patrick smirks at him before turning and walking away, the arm with the scanner swinging beside him.

“That was cold,” David says, falling into step beside him. Patrick looks at him, eyes blinking. “That was foul play.”

Patrick just shrugs and David badly wants to wipe that smirk off his face. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Did you have to do that though?” David wonders aloud.

Patrick fixes him with a look. “David, you were about to register us for a six hundred dollar juicer.”

“I mean, it’s not our money,” he mutters and he swears Patrick has to force himself to swallow his laugh. He switches the hand the scanner is in and ducks around David to walk on his other side, lacing his fingers through David’s and looking forward like what he just did was normal behavior and has been normal every time he’s done it today, which is a lot.

“Okay. What are you doing?” David says, turning on Patrick. “Because you keep walking around me so you can walk on my left side and it’s weird. Are you shielding me from someone? Did you see someone we know?” David scans the store, twisting his neck around. “Is it to stop me from seeing the thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets because I already did and I think I should be rewarded for my self-restraint in not registering for them?”

Patrick isn’t answering, instead looking away and scratching the back of his neck with the scanner. David narrows his eyes.

When Patrick gets embarrassed, which he rarely does, he doesn’t blush. It had taken several weeks and his father walking in on them making out in the motel for David to pinpoint his tell. When Patrick is embarrassed, the tips of his ears go bright red and he can’t meet David’s eyes.

Patrick’s ears are tinged pink right now.

“What is it, is it because I kissed you in the kitchen section?” he asks, though technically Patrick was the one who kissed him and he only did it to get the scanner back.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Well, it’s not nothing. I can tell it’s not nothing. Why do you keep walking around me?”

Patrick purses his lips like he does when he’s considering something. “I like holding your left hand.”

“My left—why my left hand?” But even as the words fall from his mouth, a smile threatens to crack open David’s face. Patrick doesn’t need to answer for David to know what he meant. David can feel his mouth twist to the side in a lopsided half-grin because he thinks if he lets himself smile fully he might never stop.

Patrick is watching him, bashful and affectionate all at once, so David clasps the hand in his tighter. Patrick squeezes right back. David wants to wrap his whole body around his and walk through the store like that, limbs tangled in each other and stumbling through the aisles. He has to satisfy himself with just a held hand.

A week later, David is lying in bed on his phone on their day off. He looks up when Patrick reenters the bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers and carrying two cups of coffee. David loves summer, loves that Patrick doesn’t bother getting dressed in the mornings when they can sleep in, loves that he can put his hand on Patrick’s bare chest when he leans in for a kiss before setting the coffee down on the bedside table.

Patrick is kneeling on the bed beside him, much too far away and Patrick doesn’t have his usual tee-shirt for David to drag him closer with, so he hooks a finger in his boxer shorts to lightly tug Patrick towards him. Patrick complies easily, shifting lower so that he can kiss David properly. But he doesn’t do what David wants, which is throw one leg over David’s so he can pin him to the bed. Instead, he pulls away, dropping one last fleeting kiss to David’s lips before backing away and twisting his body so he can pick up his laptop from the floor.

David raises his eyebrows at him. “Um,  _hi_ ,” he says pointedly.

Patrick opens his laptop, glancing at David quickly before opening up his email. “Hi.”

“It’s Sunday,” David says, walking two fingers up Patrick’s arm.

“Yes, it is.” Patrick is still looking at his computer.

“Sundays are for morning sex? Not work.”

Patrick turns to look at him, looking vaguely amused. “I’m sorry, did I not blow you this morning?”

“You did, and it was very nice,” says David quickly and Patrick’s eyebrows lift, his mouth curving into an incredulous grin. “But I’m also a  _big_  fan of reciprocation.”

He slips his fingers into the space between Patrick’s hip and his boxers again and leaves them there, looking at Patrick questioningly.

“I’m okay, David,” Patrick says and he still has that annoyingly amused look on his face. David gapes at him.

“ _Ouch_ ,” he says as Patrick turns back to his computer.

“Our wedding registry is up,” Patrick says, pulling up the page on his computer. “I got the email notification on my phone when I was making coffee.”

“You’re an asshole,” David says but it doesn’t come out remotely as hostile as he wanted it to. Patrick just smirks at him as David pushes himself up in bed, folding himself into Patrick’s side so that he can see the screen better.

Their names are typed out at the top of the website and he’s grateful they didn’t decide on some loopy font because it looks simple and classy and  _them_. There, all laid out in a neat list, is the things that their friends and family will buy for them and the things that will settle comfortably into their kitchen for the rest of their lives. It feels thrilling, to scroll through it all with Patrick, even if they had already picked it all out in the store. He sneaks a look at Patrick’s expression and it confirms that he feels the same.

“What do you want to bet that Alexis gets us something not on the registry?” he asks and Patrick chuckles.

“What do you want to bet that your  _mom_  gets us something not on the registry?”

“I’ll take that bet,” David says, turning his head so he can look at Patrick properly. He’s pleased to see Patrick’s eyes flit down towards his lips, a telltale sign that he’s about to close the distance between them. Sure enough, Patrick uses one hand to put the open computer on the bedside table and the other to draw chin upward so he can press his mouth to his.

“You’re so predictable,” David says between kisses and Patrick nips at his jaw for that.

“ _I’m_  predictable?” he says against David’s collarbone. “You sure about that?”

“Patrick?” David says, pulling Patrick’s face to his. “Shut up,” and he kisses him again, open-mouthed and full of intention.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at [brewerspatrick](http://www.brewerspatrick.tumblr.com)


End file.
